Barbara Hannay - The Cattleman's Special Delivery

Jess wanted to see her, but before she could dig her elbows into the mattress and hoist herself upright Reece was at her side.

‘Here,’ he said gently.

She felt a warm weight on her chest and looked down. And discovered a miracle. Her baby daughter. Red and perfect, with a scrunched-up face. ‘Hey, little girl.’

Her baby’s skin was still shiny and wet, but she was so cute. She had tiny little fingers and toes with the sweetest little transparent nails. And she had the most exquisite, perfect, tiny ears. And her nose was tiny and perfect too, and so was her mouth. And her eyes. And her hair.

‘Reece, she’s utterly gorgeous.’

Looking up, she saw the silver sheen of tears in his eyes. He gave her an embarrassed, lopsided smile. ‘Congratulations.’

‘Congratulations to you too. You were brilliant.’ Jess felt suddenly overwhelmed with gratitude. Everything had happened so quickly and, if it hadn’t been for Reece, her baby might have been born on the edge of a dirt track out in the rain.

Now, this simple room, miles from anywhere, felt like the most wonderfully safe and comforting haven in the world.

‘Thank you,’ she said softly.

Somehow, just saying ‘thank you’ felt totally inadequate, but she was scared that she might start to cry if she tried to express how she really felt.

‘Let’s get this around her to keep her warm.’ Businesslike again, Reece tucked a mauve crocheted blanket around the baby’s tiny body. ‘Do you want to see if she’s hungry?’

‘I’ll try, I guess.’

‘Do you know what to do?’

‘I think so.’

With his work finally done, Reece stepped out onto the veranda, and realised he was shaking. He’d never held a baby before, not even when he was a godfather attending his nephew’s fancy christening in a Sydney cathedral. Now, tonight, he’d assisted in a total stranger’s birth. The little creature had slipped from her mother into the world.

Into his hands.

He’d looked down into her little face, all red and wrinkled. He’d watched her open her eyes for the very first time, and he’d seen the tiny quivering tremble of her lip, a heartbeat before she opened her mouth to give her first cry.

And he’d lost his heart.

Completely.

Now, as he stood at the veranda railing, trying to get a grip on his galloping emotions, he told himself to man up. He felt as if his life had changed in some significant way, but the reality was, it hadn’t changed at all.

In an hour or two, the police or the ambulance would probably get through. If not tonight, tomorrow, or the next day … Then, this mother and baby would be gone. Out of his life. He’d be back to living alone with his ageing father as he had for almost thirty years. Back to carrying out his duty on this vast, back-breaking cattle property. Back to worrying about his father’s health. Back to visiting lonely spinsters if he wanted female company.

‘What’s happening in there?’

Reece turned as his father appeared at his elbow and cocked his head to the French doors, now discreetly shut with the curtains drawn.

‘Jess had a baby girl.’ Reece’s voice was choked as he said this.

‘Crikey. She doesn’t muck around, does she? Is she going to stay?’

‘Of course not. She’ll want to get back to the coast as fast as she can.’

‘Yeah. They never want to stay.’ His dad released an unexpectedly heavy sigh. After a bit, he brightened. ‘Can I see her?’

‘She needs a little time alone. She’s feeding the baby. It’s late, Dad. Why don’t you go to bed?’

‘What about the Flying Doc?’

‘I’m going to ring them again now.’ Reece had followed the doctor’s instructions faithfully, using sterile gloves and scissors from the specially supplied medical chest, and the placenta had come away easily— thank God —but he wanted to double-check that he hadn’t overlooked anything.

‘You want to put lights out on the landing strip?’ his father asked. ‘I’ll get the tins from the shed.’

Reece blinked. This was the first cooperative gesture his dad had made in ages. Unfortunately, he couldn’t make use of it. He shook his head. ‘It’s too wet for the plane to land.’ He smiled. ‘But I’m sure we could all use a cup of tea.’

Jess was too stirred to sleep. Part of her mind was constantly worrying about Alan, while the rest of her thoughts were leaping with excitement. And she couldn’t close her eyes because she didn’t want to stop gazing in awe at the tiny sleeping beauty beside her. Reece had helped her to bath the baby. She’d been nervous of the tiny body, as slippery as a frog, but he’d been calm and gentle and sure.

Jess had dried her then, and wrapped her in strips of sheeting, because they had no nappies, while Reece fashioned a makeshift cot by padding a drawer with blankets and setting it on two chairs beside Jess’s bed.

So now the baby was right there, at eye level and touching close, which was perfect. And Jess had chosen her name—Rosie Millicent Cassidy.

‘Millicent after my grandmother. And Rosie because it’s a bit like Reece,’ she’d announced as she’d sat, propped by a bank of pillows and sipping hot, sweet tea.

A dark red stain crept up Reece’s neck. ‘You know, you don’t have to name her after me.’

‘I don’t feel obliged, but you did save us from the worst possible nightmare. And anyway, Rosie is a pretty name.’

Reece looked down at the sleeping baby. ‘Actually, she looks a bit like a half-opened rose.’

Jess grinned. ‘That’s a very poetic comment. Not quite what I expected from a cattleman. But it’s true. She’s pink and a little bit crumpled still, and sort of folded like rose petals.’

He smiled and shook his head at her and their gazes linked for a shade too long. He had the loveliest dark chocolate eyes, and Jess thought, momentarily, If only … And then she was ashamed of herself.

Perhaps Reece noticed. He moved to the door. ‘I’ll say goodnight.’

‘Goodnight, and thanks again. For everything.’

‘If you need me, call. I won’t be far away and I’m a light sleeper.’

Jess felt strangely alone after he’d left. Outside the rain had slowed to a fine, dripping drizzle. She finished her tea, set the mug aside and settled down in the bed. Her body was exhausted. She really should try to get some sleep before Rosie woke again.

She closed her eyes. The house was very quiet and outside there was just a background whisper of rain. She hoped Alan was safely in an ambulance, speeding to a hospital. She had no idea where the nearest hospital might be. She wondered if he would need to be airlifted to the coast … and she wondered when she would be able to tell him about Rosie …

Perhaps she drifted off to sleep, but she roused quickly when she heard the swish of tyres in puddles, and then a vehicle pulling up outside. Footsteps and voices. Men speaking quietly and at some length.

Jess wondered if it was the police, or an ambulance. Had they come for her? She sat up and switched on a bedside lamp and, of course, she checked on Rosie, pressing her hand gently to the baby’s back to make sure she was still warm and breathing. Rosie wriggled and made a snuffling protest.

‘Sorry,’ Jess whispered. ‘Didn’t mean to disturb you.’

Footsteps approached from down the hallway. A soft tap sounded on her door.

‘Come in,’ she called.

Reece appeared, wearing an unbuttoned shirt that hung loose over his jeans, giving a hint of his broad chest with a smattering of dark hair, and a finely tapered waist. ‘Sergeant Bryant is here, Jess. He apologises for the late hour, but he’d like to speak to you.’

She was suddenly scared and she felt a little sick as the policeman stepped into the room. He didn’t look threatening, however. He was middle-aged, balding and thickset and his expression was one of almost fatherly concern.